


Virgil

by good_ho_mens



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders is Growing, Character Study, Fluff, Gen, Star Gazing, The rest fo them are there too but not really, and we love him for it, idk fellas its soft, ig??, thats... not a tag???, wow i suck at tagging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-14
Updated: 2020-05-14
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:28:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24174355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/good_ho_mens/pseuds/good_ho_mens
Summary: He thinks he can imagine what space feels like.Not the way Logan would tell it. Not cold, or dark, or void of air in the way that makes his throat constrict and eyes burn.(Virgil experiences that enough as it is.)
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders & Everyone
Comments: 2
Kudos: 30





	Virgil

He thinks he can imagine what space feels like.

Not the way Logan would tell it. Not cold, or dark, or void of air in the way that makes his throat constrict and eyes burn.

(Virgil experiences that enough as it is.)

No, he can imagine what it feels like. Like poetry Roman slips under his door on the bad days, like the soft light that bleeds from the kitchen when Patton makes late night cookies. Like Logan’s breath against the back of his ear when they spend the night curled up, watching conspiracy videos.

Space is calm and terrifying, a warning and a promise, a curse and a prayer.

When Thomas was a kid he used to camp in the backyard, lying on the tramp with a sleeping bag and a flashlight and a book. 

There were so many things that could go wrong, it could get too cold, someone could kidnap him, wild animals could find him. The later it got, the more Virgil was able to convince the kid to run back inside and curl up next to his mom.

Except then the stars would come out.

Logan would point out constellations he knew while Patton and Roman wove stories out of falling stars and Saturn’s rings. Virgil would watch them from afar as Thomas drifted to sleep, anxieties forgotten. Virgil forgotten.

It wasn’t until after the Sides were quiet and Thomas was snoring that Virgil would look up and wonder how they saw the stars as anything but terrifying.

Janus used to tell him to look beyond the surface of a thing, his eyes tired as he watched Thomas fall and get up, calling his scraped knees battle wounds as Remus cackled behind him. 

It never made sense back then.

But Thomas grew, and par for the course, so did Virgil.

“My name is Virgil! Okay. It's like a band-aid. You just gotta rip it off.”

Then things… well, things got better.

Nights are better spent with Roman watching movies, or in one of Patton’s huge sweaters, or tucked under Logan’s arm, than they were alone with only his thoughts for company.

He smiles more, because there’s more to smile about, and people to smile at. He learns to cook, and reads every article Logan gives him. He listens to Roman sing and realizes he’s not just fear.

Virgil is elation and apprehension, excitement and diligence. Virgil is needed.

Thomas doesn’t camp out on the tramp anymore, but he does still watch the stars. They go on drives at night, the windows rolled down and music from some new and obscure Broadway bleeding through the speakers.

There are so many things that can go wrong. They could get a flat tire, crash into a tree, be found by wild animals (the last one might be a little unrealistic). The farther they drive, the more Virgil is able to convince Thomas to turn around and go home, to stay up late and watch The Office instead.

Except then they park, and above them, the stars look brighter than ever.

Logan rattles off facts about black holes and the history of constellations, slipping in a request to finally take that astronomy course while Patton and Roman weave stories out of falling stars and Saturn’s rings, space whales and songs about exploration and peace. 

Virgil watches them, pressed against Roman’s side as Thomas starts to hum, pulls out a pen and paper to write down a song, anxieties forgotten. Then he turns to Virgil and says, “Isn’t it beautiful, Virge?”

So Virgil looks up and sees the stars as everything except terrifying.

Janus asked him a little while ago if he’d learned to look beyond the surface of a thing, his eyes tired as Remus begged Thomas to light his couch on fire.

It makes sense now, and Virgil said yes.

He thinks he can imagine what love feels like.

Not the way the old him would tell it. Not cold, or dark, or unreachable.

(Virgil experienced that enough to last a lifetime.)

No, he can imagine what it feels like. Like poetry Roman slips under his door on the bad days, like the soft light that bleeds from the kitchen when Patton makes late night cookies. Like Logan’s breath against the back of his ear when they spend the night curled up, watching conspiracy videos.

Love is calm and terrifying, a warning and a promise, a curse and a prayer.

**Author's Note:**

> My Tumblr is @remussvscohangout  
> Come say hi!!


End file.
